With a Kiss
by SoberRose
Summary: A new woman has entered Erik's life, but she holds a secret that can destroy his very existance. Yes, this is an Erik-OC pairing, but, please, I beg of thee, no flames! This is based mostly on ALW's musical... Murf! Enjoy!


((Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Phantom of the Opera characters, but I do own the character you are about to meet. Please, enjoy the story and stay open minded. PotO can allow one to enter a variety of thoughts and emotions. Cherrio, then!))

Chapter 1: Something of a Prologue or Upon Reminiscing in Box 5

Days...weeks...months. One would think that the Opera Populaire's very walls would crumble with the horrid passing of creeping time and abandonment, but one's thinking could easily be proven wrong. The edifice had survived in all its glory and the only thing it had to show for it was a few gnarly cracks. The place still possessed a sweet beauty, now only seemingly old in its years. An old woman who had aged well... that was what the Populaire represented. A lovely dame who still wore her makeup thin, trying to seem beautiful in her age, yet still had those tiny cracks embedded in her visage. An old woman...accompanied with a fair suitor.

Someone still kept a careful eye on the Opera Populaire's well being and he certainly intended on staying...despite that incident from the rot of one year ago. And, now, he sat, far up in his beloved Box 5, having a clear view of the ceased action in the Populaire's lavish, crimson hued auditorium. Of course! The Phantom! A friend of sorts. The abandonment of the Opera House gave him something of an advantage now...no one to bother him as he composed and wallowed in self-pity. Days would fleet past him, leaving him 24 hours older and his thoughts still tainted with the memories of his beloved, lost Christine. Perhaps the ordeal with the girl was an honest mistake...something that he shouldn't have done. This was true. The man regretted his choices. He knew secretly she would never, ever love him as he was. His music wouldn't stay for long in the girl's ebbing curiosity. Ruminating this would only bring a quiet sigh to his pallid soft lips.

He felt older than his true age. At 30, saddened Erik felt like an elderly man. Even the caress of his ivory leather mask seemed withered against his ashen skin. Thankfully, his disposition certainly didn't affect the appearance of his visage. His eyes still burned in smoldering gray-blueness and his hair still gleamed a raven black. His left cheekbone remained high in disappearing youth. The man remained handsome...well, part of him at the least. That exposed left half of his face still knew some sort of youthful winter.

Erik now snorted in distasted at his misfortune. His eyes closed slowly, shielding his visions of a horrid past. He needed something...something to take his mind off of his distant memories. His hands fiddled about with each other until his fingers found a rip in one of his black leather gloves. One eye jolted open to look upon this discovered tear.

"Damn things..." Erik muttered, emitting yet another sigh as he slid both gloves from his hands now.

But, wait...a noise. The distraction of his meager accessories became interrupted with the tap of a boot...a boot that wasn't his own. Erik glanced upward, his thick eyebrows arching downward. A silhouette blanketed the light of morning streaking through one of the auditorium's entrances. The silhouette of a woman. An eyebrow rose curiously as Erik watched the shadow coil down to the feet of its owner. His gaze narrowed at the visitor who now entered. Indeed, a young woman, perhaps 25 or older. A woman with deep, flowing scarlet hair and smoldering, sharp emerald eyes. Had Erik's past revisited him in the form of this female? Again, he snorted, trying to deny the woman's obvious beauty. Beauty as dark as Christine's...even as dark as the Phantom's. His head tilted as the woman strolled further down the glowing red path of the auditorium's main aisle. A smile had flitted across the woman's coral lips and her dainty hands had reached down to her silken black gown, lifting the edges so that her booted feet wouldn't tramp upon it. Erik found himself gasping as this woman strode quickly to the dusty, unpolished wood stage. She moved with such shadowed grace, which excited the Phantom greatly. He needed to keep her there...somehow.


End file.
